Black Dragon: Wielder of the Spear of Cicero
by RavenTears
Summary: A holy relic fell into Japanese hands during the 17th century and has been passed down to it's newest owner, a cocky teenager who doesn't hesitate to pick a fight with Ranma. Akane gets caught in the middle and the horrific power of the spear is revealed!
1. Prologue

Black Dragon:

Wielder of the Spear of Cicero

Prologue

"Quickly! This way!" The general waved his men on through the fortified settlement and watched as they set the building that lined the streets on fire . They ran past him in a flood, bearing torches as well as swords and spears. Most of the town was already ablaze, but save for the roar of the fires and the occasional whinnies from his horse, the town was strangely quiet for being razed.

"General Takashima!" The general tore his eyes away from the leaping flames that devoured the buildings of the town and glanced down at his subordinate, kneeling on the cobbled road before him.

"Speak!" he commanded gruffly, and the young samurai finally raised his eyes to meets his commander's.

"Sir! All the houses and stores are empty, sir!"

"The blasphemers have obviously retreated to the church in hopes that their false god will protect them!"

"What are your orders, sir?"

"We will destroy any and all followers of the pernicious doctrine!"

"Sir!" The youth bowed and darted off through the streets. The general turned his horse and started off on a canter toward the church at the center of the hamlet. The building seemed unobtrusive enough, but despite its clean Japanese architecture, it housed a subversive religion that undermined authority within society and the family. As he neared the edifice, Takashima watched his men crowding at the entrance and grew angry. His orders had been clear, but still they hesitated. 

At Takashima's approach, an officer made his way through the crowd and toward his horse, his face hardened and lined with age beneath his mask and grey strands of hair slipping out from underneath his helm.

"What is the meaning of this, Kasumoto?" The aged samurai bowed before replying.

"Sir, the leader of the Christians wishes to speak with you."

"Keh! Where is the Jesuit dog?" Takashima dismounted and stomped toward the doorway of the church, his men clearing a wide girth for him. Immediately General Takashima recognized the Jesuit priest, still wearing his missionary garb in audacious affront.

"My Lord Takashima," the blue-eyed man addressed rudely in heavily-accented Japanese, "I wish to speak with you."

"To plead for your life, no doubt. It appears to be the custom of the West to raise cowardly children."

"My Lord, I plead not for my own life, but for the lives of the followers of Jesus Christ." The foreigner fell to one knee and bowed his head, finally displaying a modicum of respect. Takashima looked to the building before him, his men standing at the ready with torches, and then looked back down at the foreigner.

"What are they doing in there?"

"Praying, my Lord," the Dutchman answered without looking up. Takashima scoffed and waved a pair of his men forward. The warriors grabbed either arm of the priest and pulled him to his feet.

"It's a pity they're praying to the wrong god." The Jesuit priest stared in horror at Takashima and began to struggle with his captors. "Jacob Vondel, you stand accused of defying Ieyasu-sama's order of expulsion of the Christian missionaries, a clear act of treason against Ieyasu-sama and Go–Mizunou-sama. And one punishable by death."

"What?!"

"Sir!" The general glanced over to Kasumoto, holding the reins of his horse. "What of the Christians?"

"Board the doors and windows, then burn the church to the ground." The general approached Kasumoto and the men exchanged glances. The younger, more self assured, projecting confidence in his actions , while the elder, wiser's eyes flickered with doubt and misgiving. 

The moment passed and Takashima took the reigns and mounted his horse, nudging the stallion away from the assembly and the church, presumably headed for the corps' encampment in the forest that surrounded the Christian settlement.

While the sound of Takshima's departure grew more and more distant, Kasumoto wordlessly watched the samurai drag the Dutch priest away to a hasty execution. When Vondel's shouts could no longer be heard over the ubiquitous roar of the fires that surrounded them all, Kasumoto turned his slatey gaze to the remaining aggregation of samurai who ringed the church, silently awaiting his order.

Kasumoto gave an understating wave of his hand and watched as the men immediately went to work barring the doors and windows of the building. When that was done, they reassembled and gathered up their torches, awaiting the next command.

It was a slow and deliberate nod of Kasumoto's head that sealed the fate of the Christians, still chantlessly imploring their western god to protect them while they congregated within the walls of their holy edifice. 

Kasumoto Shigure did not turn away when the bright flames began to devour the church from the outside in. He did not cover his ears when the dissonance of the inferno was blended with the screams of the Christians as they burned to death. He did not shield his skin from the heat of the fires, fueled as they were by human kindling. He did not plug up his nose when the smell of charred flesh pervaded the air. 

He watched in silence as the building was routed and remained watching it until the last crossbeams collapsed and the building which had stood for salvation to the villagers became a charred and blackened mass grave.

Kasumoto looked up across the rest of the smoking village, most of the fires having already burned themselves out. The dawning sun stretched its glowing fingers through the wafting smoke, adding a strange and out of place element of natural beauty to the otherwise horrific scene.

"Sir?" For the first time since the church's ignition, Kasumoto turned his head away from the church and found himself eye to eye with a young and obviously exhausted samurai. The young man had abandoned most pieces of his armor and was leaning heavily on his spear. "What would you have us do?"

"Have a fresh man ride out to the nearest town and bring back a monk to perform last rites." The warrior nodded wearily and turned to trudge out of the skeletal village.

"You are too sentimental, Shigure-san." Kasumoto turned around and watched Takashima approach him, his face fresh and well-rested. The younger man adjusted his armor and began to walk out to the remains of the church building, still smoldering in the early morning light. He trudged through the embers irreverently, kicking beams of charcoal aside, apparently oblivious of the human remains through which he trod.

Kasumoto turned his head away in disgust, only to return his attention to his superior when an elated cry broke the relative silence of the morning. Takashima was kneeling in the ash and wood coal, digging something out. In another minute, he extracted what appeared to be a rod of some kind from the rubble and Kasumoto's vision was overcome with a flash of light so bright it outshone the sun behind it and blinded any who looked on.


	2. Chapter One

Black Dragon:

Wielder of the Spear of Cicero

Chapter One

"Ranma!" Akane swung her bookbag at her fiancé's head over and over again, while the adroit martial artist ducked and evaded her over and over again. "You're such a jerk!"

"I told you," he defended between dodges, "It wasn't my fault! It was the geezer!"

"Then what were _you_ doing in the girls' locker room?!"

"He _tricked_ me!"

"If this were any highschool other than Furinkan, you would have been expelled by now! Or at _least _suspended!"

"You _want_ me kicked out?!"

"I _want _you to stop being a _pervert_!"

A bright light flickered at the edge of Kasumoto Sesshiro's vision, causing him to pause mid-stride and turn his head toward the source. A teenaged boy rounded the corner ahead of him and started down the bridge on which Kasumoto stood. He was powerful, but not the source of the bright flash that had snagged his attention before. Then a small girl in a school uniform rounded the corner behind him, fairly growling, and Kasumoto's attention was immediately and irrevocably wrapped around her petite form and fiery spirit energy.

"Take that back!" the girl shouted at the boy, but the boy's scowl only deepened as he stopped and turned to face the girl, turning his back to Kasumoto.

"Sexless tomboy!" he spat at her, and even though Kasumoto's view of the girl was blocked by the boy, he flinched at the bright flash of ki she released. "Built like a brick!" Another bright flash. "Uncute!"

At this last epithet, the ki peaked and the boy barely had time to duck as her bookbag came flying at his head. Kasumoto, engrossed as he was by the astral pyrotechnics, was not so lucky.

"Oh my god!"

"Way to go, Akane."

Akane ran past Ranma, pushing him out of the way with a bit more force than necessary, and to the young man's side, leaning over him with wide-eyed panic. The man, who appeared to be in his mid twenties, had been knocked clean out. Akane was at first a little confused by his unusual appearance – he was definitely _not_ from Nerima. His shoulder length, blue-black hair was swept into a loose ponytail, which revealed his ears, pierced many times over with little silver hoops. He also wore an uncommon necklace which had slid out from under his loose blue shirt. Akane picked his head up off the sidewalk and checked for blood, relieved to only find a swelling bump.

"Sir? Sir, are you alright?" When he didn't respond, Akane lightly tapped his cheek, growing more panicked by the moment. "Oh, please wake up, Sir!"

Sesshiro felt a gentle tapping on his cheek and struggled to orient himself. The blow to the head had left his mind swimming, and he felt as though he was terribly dizzy and incapable of making the world stay still. He managed to open his eyes, and stare blearily at the girl who stood over him, holding his head on her hands. Suddenly, he recognized the ki signature and the world snapped back into place.

She was beautiful, with endlessly dark eyes and her brow delicately creased with worry. One soft, warm hand cupped his cheek, and he felt as though he was experiencing human contact for the first time. All too soon, her hand left his face, and seemed to strip him of his humanity at the same time. He ignored it though, as it was a feeling he had become accustomed to, and soon forgot it entirely as the most beautiful and heartening smile he had ever seen graced her goddess lips.

"Oh, thank God!" Akane exclaimed as the man's eyes came to rest on hers, clearly lucid, and she helped him to a sitting position. Ranma watched with a touch of jealousy as Akane smiled her beautiful smile at the man. The one he always tried so hard to elicit from her, the one that made his heart skip a beat, the one that she rarely showed him. He she was smiling broadly at a perfect stranger, just for surviving her temper tantrum. If she smiled at him every time he survived them, she'd be smiling all the time.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm _so_ sorry!" Ranma rolled his eyes as Akane bowed her head over and over again in apology. The man just kind of stared at her, not really acknowledging her apologies. The way he was looking at her made Ranma's skin crawl. It reminded him of the way Ryouga acted anytime Akane did something nice for him, and Ranma did _not _like the idea of this man making himself Akane's newest suitor _at all_. Ranma hated to admit it, but he felt threatened by his age. He'd heard plenty of stories of girls falling for much older men – hell, it was all over the television and comic books.

"That's alright . . ." the man finally responded, seeming a little dazed. "Really, I'm fine. . . ."

"Are you sure you're OK? Do you want me to take you to the doctor? Dr. Tofu's clinic is just a few blocks away."

"He says he's fine Akane, so he's fine."

"Ranma!"

"No, he's right. I'm fine." The man moved to stand up, and Akane quickly grabbed his arm to help him. "Thank you," he said when he was standing.

Akane blushed and dropped her hands. "Of course. After all it was _my _book bag that—"

"Oh yes! Your bag!" He looked around for the leather satchel that had knocked him unconscious. "I hope it's not damaged."

"I got it, Akane," Ranma announced from the wall of the bridge on which he stood, and indeed, he did have the bag. "C'mon, were gonna be late!"

"Late for _what_?" she shot back before returning her attention to the anonymous man. "I'm Tendou Akane, by the way."

"I am Kasumoto Sesshiro," he introduced with a bow, taking Akane aback with his formality.

"Uh, would you maybe like to join me and my family for dinner?" she offered clumsily, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Ranma did _not_ like where this was going.

"Oh, I couldn't impose," he politely declined.

"Are you sure? My sister makes this delicious—"

"He said he can't impose, Akane!" Ranma pressed agitatedly, jumping down from the wall. "Let's get going!" With that he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a run with him, leaving Akane without the chance to say goodbye to Sesshiro as she struggled to keep pace with him and not be dragged behind.

"What the hell was that about?" she asked angrily as they neared home. Ranma finally slowed down and Akane had the chance to catch her breath. "You're such a jerk!"

"Oh so now you've got the hots for that old man?" he spat, not looking at her.

"Old man? He only looked about—" Akane's scowl melted into a surprised expression, and then a delighted one. "You're jealous!"

"What?!" he exclaimed, releasing her hand and turning on her. "I am not!"

"You _are_!" she insisted, apparently ecstatic at the revelation. _Well, are you happy now? _a little voice asked him. _She's finally smiling at you._

"You are _so_ uncute," he grumbled to himself as he entered the yard, Akane giddy at his heels.

"Ranma's jealous! Ranma's jealous!" she singsonged as she skipped past him and into the house. "Guess what, Kasumi!" he heard her shout from the entryway to her sister in the kitchen. It was going to be a long day.

Sesshiro stared after her, even after she had dropped out of sight. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful and kind and vivacious, and now found himself helplessly infatuated. When she'd touched his skin, he had forgotten what a horrible person he was and how many people he'd killed and just felt . . . alive.

And her eyes. . . . The way they exuded her emotions, be they worry or joy, and let the feelings overflow from herself and wash over him as he lost himself in the murky depths of her beautiful, beautiful eyes. The way her blush stained her cheeks so delicately and painted them a pale pink. Oh, how he could spend hours philosophizing over the wonder of her face. . . .

But he didn't have that time, he reminded himself. He forced himself to forget about the lovely Tendou Akane, brusquely straightening his clothing and turning to continue across the bridge.

Only to freeze as he met the cold, black eyes of his lord and master.

"You were taking so long, so I decided to come and look for you," he stated calmly, pushing his long hair out of his face while he did so. The youth was leaning jauntily against the wall of the bridge, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Lord Takashima."

"No matter," the teenager said, shrugging off the apology. Sesshiro took this to mean that the reason for his delay was a nonissue, and so started walking down the length of the bridge, expecting his lord to fall into step ahead of him.

"She is rather pretty, isn't she?" Sesshiro halted in his step, dreading what Takashima might do or say. "How old are you now, Sesshiro-san? Twenty-three?"

"Twenty-four, Lord Takashima."

"Past time for you to start your own family, don't you think?"

"I appreciate your intentions, Lord Takashima, but please leave the girl alone."

The young man just raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I saw the way you were looking at her."

"Kouzou, please don't do it," he pleaded, eyeing the long object wrapped in cloth and strapped to his master's back. Takashima Kouzou's face hardened.

"How very insolent we are today."

"I am sorry, my Lord, for my affront, but please—"

"Leave the girl alone?" he supplied. Sesshiro let his silence speak on his behalf.

Kouzou sighed. "As you wish," he relented, feigning indifference. "Go on ahead Sesshiro-san. I have yet to finish my work." Sesshiro hesitated, then, in a show of trust, continued walking across the bridge.

When he had left, Kouzou turned and faced the direction the girl and boy had headed. Sesshiro had _said_ no, but what did he really want? From what Kouzou had seen, she was of average comeliness, with a mix of a spitfire and a caretaker personality. Then all at once, Kouzou realized that his obedient underling had fallen in love with her for her life energy.

"So that's why he doesn't want me to give her to him." He shrugged the parcel he carried off his back and unwrapped it at the top.

The opaque-white spearhead did not reflect the sunlight, but shone with a steady glow all its own. Kouzou ran his fingertips lightly over the spearhead, careful to avoid the razor-sharp edge, and smiled as a pleasant shudder ran up his spine. Hastily, he re-wrapped the spear and shouldered it onto his back once again.

Maybe there was a way for him to convince the girl to come to him of her own volition, so he wouldn't have to use the spear. It would be breaking with tradition, but his servant deserved it for his loyalty.

Kouzou glanced back across the bridge toward the residential section of the Tokyo suburb before starting back toward the shopping district. He had a lot of work to do and not nearly enough daylight in which to do it.

He cast one last glance over his shoulder. No, he would not betray Sesshiro's trust. Not today, anyway.


End file.
